Gun Control
by anothermellofan
Summary: What happened after the confrontation at SPK headquarters? Mello returned later that evening-without Halle. Near/Mello
1. Chapter 1

Gun Control

Part One

Near disabled the alarm system when he saw Mello enter SPK headquarters, this time without Halle. Mello had the hood of his jacket up and his head bowed. Near assumed this self-conscious behavior was to avoid getting caught on film again; he must have learned that at least one of the Kiras only needed a face to kill. That was the only thing that made sense because Near remembered sharing a room with a boy that exuded brazen self-confidence, even when suffering from moments of deep insecurity.

Earlier that day when Mello appeared with Halle as his apparent hostage, Near hadn't been able to even turn around to look at him. Near had imagined their reunion so many times over the years, he wasn't sure he wanted the real thing to replace the fantasy he'd created for himself. L had taught Near long ago that even the mind of a genius needed rest and not just in the form of sleep. Some kind of mental break was necessary to stay fresh. Oftentimes walking away from work and returning could lead to new ideas and perspectives. So for one hour every week Near scheduled a break for himself, and he would sit and think about anything except work. He wouldn't even play with his toys as he had come to associate them with his deductive process.

His mind invariably wandered to Mello during these breaks. He'd cogitate on the possibility of them meeting up again; on the nature of their last farewell. Besides the Kira case, Near simply had nothing else to think about. For so much of his life he'd been Near, the bane of Mello's existence or Near, possible successor to L. Then suddenly he _was_ L and Mello was gone.

It was years ago now, but the memory was fresh. After concluding his first meeting with Roger as 'L' Near returned to his room to find Mello packing quickly and silently, avoiding Near's penetrative gaze the whole while. Near sat on his bed, already formulating an action plan for his investigation when Mello approached him and grabbed him roughly by the shoulders.

"I won't let you defeat me," he growled into Near's face before smashing his lips against the smaller boy's.

Near froze in shock but his mouth fell open after a minute of Mello awkwardly kissing at the closed line of his lips. When their tongues met Near melted into the kiss. The sensation traveled from his tongue straight to his gut turning his insides to liquid. He reached up to pull Mello closer, reveling in the new sensation, not wanting it to stop.

So of course being the antagonistic person that he is, Mello pulled away. "This doesn't change anything." he said.

"Of course it doesn't."

Seemingly satisfied with Near's response, Mello grabbed his bag and left. Near shuffled over to the window to watch him leave. As Mello approached the gate Near thought he might turn and look toward their bedroom window. But Mello never looked back. His stride was steady and determined. The night they learned of L's murder was the last time Near had seen Mello. Until the tense confrontation earlier that day.

It was de ja vu for Near to watch him approach via the surveillance cameras. He had the same steady determined strut but this time coming instead of going. Entry hall, elevator, south corridor, east corridor and …

"Near."

His voice was gruff and deeper than it had been five years ago. Deeper and more satisfying to listen to than Near had ever imagined during his weekly fantasy meetings with Mello.

'What is it that you want, M? Lidner has gone home for the day."

"Did you send her to spy on me?"

"No. But it was obvious from your rapport earlier that she was not truly your hostage. You blew your own cover."

"She's a good woman. Very useful to me."

Near noticed the suggestive undertone of his statement and felt a mixture of several things all at once. It was unsettling, so he kept talking to distract himself from it.

"Mello, I find it strange that you want to beat me, yet you infiltrate my organization and attempt to leech off of my progress. Why?"

Near expected to hear the sound of Mello unlocking the safety on his pistol but there was no movement from behind him, just a quiet command …

"Look at me."

Near wasn't sure if he had heard correctly. "I beg your pardon?"

"Look at me, damn it, I'm talking to you!"

In his fantasies Mello was kind of a taller stretched out version of his childhood self. When Near turned around his eyes met the gaze of a stranger.

Where was the precocious, angry young man that had bravely kissed him goodbye five years before?

This Mello was rugged, scraggly, wiry. The softness of his cheeks had completely melted away leaving a strong jaw line in its wake; his lips were a luscious pout that softened his looks yet made him look dangerous at the same time. Near couldn't see much more than that because Mello had his hood up and head bowed.

"I'm looking at you, so if you may answer my question?"

"Near, you've always underestimated me and overestimated yourself. I know that you planted Halle to try and get information from me, so you can go fuck yourself."

"I'd rather not, but I appreciate the suggestion."

Mello snorted and pulled back his hood suddenly.

"So you aren't invincible after all." Near is stunned by the scar blazing across more than half of Mello's face, but covers his reaction flawlessly under a veneer stoicism.

"No."

Near unfolded himself from his usual half-crouched position on the floor and walked toward Mello. Mello was not very tall but he was taller than Near and his high-heeled boots only added to the difference. Near studied the scar openly. It was obvious the boy hadn't received real medical care for the injury. Near wondered where he had gone to recover; who, if anyone, had helped him through it.

"It suits you."

Mello considered that for a moment, his blue eyes rolling to the left and then back to Near's face. "If you say so," is all he said but something in him seemed to unwind.

"I could probably procure a plastic surgeon for you. I can contact Roger …"

Near trailed off already leaving the main room with the intent of heading to the floor designated for his personal use.

Mello followed him, his boots clicking on the linoleum floors and his gravelly voice complaining that he didn't need Near's help.

When they reached Near's living suite he was still talking. Was he always so loquacious? Near had to admit that he had been. But the SPK members, like his Whammy's school mates before them, seemed to find his silence unnerving and avoided interacting with him socially. Mello had never shied away from battering his ear drums with pointless conversation, whether Near participated or not. Near realized he'd missed Mello as more than a rival; he'd missed his companionship. But he really was going on and on …

"Shut-up Mello." The blonde fell silent, apparently stunned by the command.

Near walked up to him and pressed his lips against Mello's. Mello responded immediately. He grabbed Near's shoulders and pulled the boy close against him. Near wrapped his arms around the taller boy's narrow waist and enjoyed the feel of his taut build. The embrace was brief. Near pulled away first.

"You need to take a shower, you smell like the funk of forty thousand years."

"Did you just quote Thriller?" Mello's incredulity was palpable.

"That is irrelevant. Please feel free to use my facilities and get clean. Otherwise I will have to ask you to leave. I can't tolerate filth."

Mello chuckled and began to undress right there in the middle of the room. "Perfect, white, pristine Near. Sorry to offend your delicate sensibilities."

While Mello showered Near curled up on his bed. He looked at the pile of filth ridden clothes festering in the middle of the room and gave in to his curiosity. He poked around in the clothes, turned out the pockets and felt around the seams. He found the pistol easily. The wallet held fake identification, cash, stolen credit cards, and a tiny scrap of paper tucked into a crevice. It was folded in and over itself several times. Near unraveled it slowly. It was a sketch of a topless woman. It was obviously Halle. Near indulged in a brief moment of fancy. He pictured the two blondes, Mello and Halle, languishing in post-orgasmic bliss. He imagined her chagrin--no--her bemusement as she watched Mello pull a sketch pad out from behind his pillow. The graphite lines that make up her form on paper are faint, soft, the product of careful strokes. Mello had captured her stern features in a state of contentment.

Near heard the shower water stop. Something came over him. Something wicked. Near picked up Mello's gun. He went into the bathroom. Mello had his back to him. He was dripping wet. He bent to pull on a pair of briefs. Surely he'd heard the bathroom door open; he was ignoring Near. On purpose. And then something inside Near, something always held tight within his core, snapped.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Gun Control Part Two**

_Click._

He freezes at the sound of me unlocking the safety. He shouldn't have left his weapon unattended. He can be so stupid sometimes it makes me wonder why I feel the way I do. The scar marring his once perfect countenance gives testament to his reckless nature and inability to take care of himself. I can only hope that he has reconnected with Matt since he no longer has the protection of the Mafia. He needs someone there to guide him when he gets caught up in the wonderful, horrible, brilliant mind of his.

He turns around and stares at me not trying to hide his amusement.

"So that's why you kissed me, to distract me."

"No." He raises a skeptical eyebrow but I'm not lying. When I pressed my lips to his it was the stop the stream of hateful words because I knew our time would be limited. I didn't want to waste time now that I had him and knew what it was I was truly missing with him gone. There was no one else I could kiss, no one else I could love. Yes we were enemies, yes he wanted to win, but of course, we were two sides of the same coin and we belonged together, pressed together. He knew it too but he would have never crossed that line with me. So I did it for him acting on a rare moment of impulse.

I keep the weapon level and trained on the space between his eyes. Mello is a dangerous man, afterall.

The wry smirk dissolves into a look of fury. "Get that thing out of my face," he growls moving as if to disarm me, "It's loaded."

"Don't move," I say, making it clear that I am prepared to shoot him. He stops short, unable to hide his surprise.

I can't deny the thrill of power that fills me and I understand why Mello has always been so fond of these horrible things. I've got death harnessed in my hand, cradled in my sure grip, and consequently, I've got the wild and otherwise uncontrollable Mello on puppet strings. It's a heady feeling and I plan to take advantage. Time is short.

"Hands behind your head."

"What the fuck!" He yells, but complies.

"Kneel down," I command. I watch with carefully cloaked amusement as Mello slowly bends his legs, sinking down slow like molasses, until finally, his knees hit the hard floor. He looks at me blankly. I realize with a jolt that I have no idea what comes next.

"You don't even know what you're doing. Pathetic fool, you think you know everything. You don't know shit about the real world. I bet you won't come any closer than that, cuz you know I'd kick your ass six ways from Sunday, you albino son-of-a-bitch."

"Mello be quiet," I've grown weary of him already and I lower the weapon to my side.

Mello puts his arms down but oddly remains on his knees, resting back on his haunches.

"You're weak Near. That's your problem. Why do you think he didn't choose you?"

"I believe L always wanted the two of us to succeed him-"

"Wrong! He wanted _you_ to do it but you weren't good enough. So he kept me in the wings, ready. I may have never been top of the class, but how pathetic, that you were number one and he _still_ didn't want you-"

I've slapped him. I don't even remember walking toward him and I'm angry at myself for losing control in front of him. Gevanni is probably watching on surveillance. I don't imagine I'll have to explain myself to him later but any erratic behavior may affect the SPK's trust in me. I take a deep breath to calm down.

Mello has his head down, shoulders shaking.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"You couldn't ever hurt me, just give me my gun so I can leave."

He looks up at me through ragged bangs and I see the desperation and sadness that clouds his once bright eyes. He is dismissing me, he is weary of me. He used to wonder about me, want to figure me out. And now it seems he doesn't care, he's lost interest. The cold fury that settles over me is not unexpected.

I raise the weapon again. Mello looks at the barrel with obvious apprehension; it really is loaded.

"Near, I-"

"Shush," my voice is a whisper. My heart is pounding in my ears and I wonder if I shouldn't actually shoot him and put him out of his misery. He's like a wounded animal struggling along, a shadow of what he used to be. I press the barrel against his sealed lips. I rub it against his lips slowly from side to side, then I stroke the cool metal against his cheek. His eyes have closed. I imagine that he's afraid of what I might do and afraid of how it makes him feel.

"Open up," I command in a low voice putting the gun to his lips again. Mello opens his eyes and levels me with a molten look. "Come on," I prompt, pressing the weapon against him with a little more force. When he lowers his jaw I slide the shaft inside, careful to avoid his teeth. He lets our a barely audible cry and I rub the metal against his tongue and palate. In and out it slides. Drool leaks from the corners of Mello's mouth and I am disgusted but enraptured. He's so beautifully broken, he's a mess. I want to see him crumble.

"You like it?" He looks at me and seems to say 'no' with his eyes. I reach down with my left hand and feel the hardness between his legs. He moans. "You like it," I say amazed at his depravity.

He pushes his groin against my hand but I do not give him what he needs. He growls in frustration and seems to suck on the weapon with more vigor, a determined look on his face. After a moment I realize he is trying to taunt me. He reaches out and presses his hand against my own throbbing member and groans in satisfaction. I snatch the gun from his mouth and a trail of saliva follows it, stretches, stretches, then finally breaks.

He continues to rub at my groin and when my knees buckle slightly he smiles a terrible smile. I have to regain control of the situation. I bring the gun to the side of his head and press the end of it into the spot just above his ear.

"Take it out and put it in your mouth," I say in a helplessly breathy voice.

He obeys immediately and I'm … oh, God.


	3. Chapter 3

I take him in my mouth and yes I'm turned on and yes I'm fucking furious. I have the urge to bite his dick off but I settle for letting my teeth graze the sensitive head instead. He gasps and yanks my head back by my hair.

"Don't bite," he warns in a voice that is shaky but somehow commanding at the same time. He presses the gun harder into my temple to emphasize his words and to remind me of the power he has over me.

"Fuck you," I gasp before taking him back into my mouth. He tastes clean like soap but soon I can taste the salty and musky flavor of his pre-cum as it leaks from the tip. I wonder briefly if anyone has ever done this to him before, but I don't dwell on it. I can hardly think of anything but the insistent press of his cock into my mouth. It's not very long but the girth is nice and it's hard and hot and the thought that I am the one who has caused the normally icy Near to succumb to his baser human instincts thrills me in ways I can't quite define.

And I'm on my knees and I want to please him and I want to kill him but I also hope that his unsure fingers will slip on that trigger and accidentally blow me away. I know he'd never do it on purpose. I look up at him from my position between his legs and his eyes are wide as if he's looking at evidence from a crime scene, taking everything in and breaking it down, breaking me down and _fuck _this might just be a crime scene before this night is over and -

I know that he loves me. The sick fuck.

I can tell that he's close and I knew it wouldn't take long because I know what the fuck I'm doing and he never stood a chance against me. His knees begin to tremble as he gives in to it and succumbs to the physical sensations rushing through him and I grab his hips to help steady him and I let him fuck my face until he's shuddering and releasing down my throat. I swallow it all and don't give him time to recover before I'm disarming him, easily prying the weapon from his small hand and shoving him in the chest so hard that he falls backwards onto the floor.

I keep the gun trained on him with my right hand and reach into my boxers for my aching cock with my left. He stares at me expectantly. "Will you fuck me now?"

I don't answer him. I look down into his fathomless grey eyes and I see no enigma there. There is no mystery. This is simply a horny boy who wants to be pinned down and screwed until his eyes roll back. I picture it and I can see it and my hand is flying on my cock because it would be me wouldn't it? It would have to be me between those creamy thighs, spreading him open, exposing his secrets and taking them for my own.

"Please Mello," he begs and I growl out an expletive in my native tongue and then I'm coming hard, shooting onto Near's flushed face and head. The viscous white substance vulgarly drips down his cheeks and onto his chin and he lifts a hand but stops short of touching his own face as if repulsed.

"You look good like that," I say and step over his prone form to leave the bathroom. I find my clothes where I left them and throw them on. I pause when I notice a crumpled piece of paper on the floor. I smooth it out and an image of my own creation stares back at me. It's a sketch of Halle from a couple weeks ago. I re-fold the picture as best I can and shove it in my jeans pocket.

I hear water running in the bathroom and then he's there staring at me. The cum has been scrubbed from his face but his expression is no longer pure. He gazes at me with a mixture of wonder, frustration, and now undisguised lust. He's been compromised. I can't stand to look at him so I turn away. I settle back into the familiar.

"I won't let you defeat me," I say but the words are empty even to my own ears. It's obvious that without catching Kira or even having to pull a trigger, that I have managed to destroy Near and in so doing I have destroyed myself. I leave without another word. I know I'll never see him again.


End file.
